


The Lifespan of a Butterfly

by Robaroo72



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, But HINTS to something more, Gen, M/M, More focused on their friendship, based on a prompt, but like, honestly not really beta'd, i mean i went through it like twice and then went 'YEAH SHE'LL BE 'LRIGHT!', idk how to tag this one it was out of my comfort zone in a few ways, light angst?, no fluff?, open ended ending, single scene fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:49:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26374510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robaroo72/pseuds/Robaroo72
Summary: After 8th year being one of the highlights of Draco's life, the attempt of putting things back to normal is halted by Harry's ever insistent owling.For a friend who requested drarry for the prompt, "Everything is temporary. This was merely one of those things."
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	The Lifespan of a Butterfly

How many has it been now? Ten? Twenty? Draco had lost count, and it had only been a month since graduation. He watched as the owl flew back out the window unhappily, Harry's unopened letter still tied to its talons.

Stacks of paper crowded his desk. Options ranging from potions to portkeys, terrors to television. Anything and everything in a hope that there would be something for him to do.

8th year was that last piece of light before going back into this dark spiral of uncertainty.

Looking back on it now, Draco couldn’t explain why it was the best. No specific memory came to mind, just the sound of laughter and hi fives, teasing and joking, and muffled memories of late night introspection.

The Manor wasn’t like that. No safe walls of Hogwarts anymore, no portraits to judge you, no professors to guide you. Just a lonely, silent building. If it was alive, it would be holding its breath.

Draco knows he’s afraid of change. The knowledge of everything being so fleeting, being here one second and gone the next was a deep rooted fear that only ever grew and wove itself through his ribcage.

Knowing change was inevitable was still a bitter pill to swallow. Even now, small things here and there would remind him of just how temporary the world truly was. The new plants in the corner. The replaced window. Him. 

He picked up the potions file to read it through once more before a soft knock on his bedroom door startled him. 

“Draco, dear?” Narcissa’s voice was soft. “You’ve got a visitor.”

He sighed and massaged his temple. “Who is it?”

Too late he heard the retreating footsteps. With a deep breath, he got up, leaving his room the mess it was.

The walls of his house were nothing like before, as if the crevices and cracks that made itself home for death and despair had become filled with something else entirely. That somehow in its redecoration and renovation the house had to minus Malfoy and add more ‘Ministry of Magic,’ to meet the Wizengamot’s wishes.

As he reached the door, he staggered. The one person he swore he wouldn’t meet, wouldn’t see again, no matter how much he wanted to, was right there.

The man looked up. He twitched slightly, like he was about to move but thought better of it.

“Draco.” The man in front of him said his name like a prayer, as if the name was a breath of fresh air. His voice was a glorious mix of concern and question, and his eyes were filled with relief and confession. 

“Harry,” Draco replied for a lack of any other words than  _ you, my god, it’s you. _

They stood there, unmoving. Draco’s chest ached, a strong wish to turn back time and have them joking about graduation robes and the Giant Squid.

Then a cool breeze blew, and plucked a piece of Draco’s mind with it. He felt his eyebrow twitch, his lips purse, and his hand tighten on the door knob. 

Swiftly, he made a move to close the door. Almost had it too, except for the foot wedged between. 

“What happened, why are you ignoring me?” Harry pressed himself against the door. He grunted as he pushed.

The signature Malfoy sneer felt wrong on his face, like it wasn’t used to being pulled that way anymore. The laugh that escaped his throat didn’t sound like his either. It was bitter, snide, and entirely too much of the old him. “You’re so daft,  _ Potter. _ I’m not ignoring you, I’m busy.”

“Oh, ‘Potter’ now, am I?” Harry gave one great heave, and the door opened up. “What’s going on, Draco? What did I do?”

He could feel it, Harry’s stare boring into his skin. Draco could imagine it now, a look he’d long forgotten. A face where Harry’s eyebrows furrowed slightly in the middle, lopsiding his glasses, and the way his lips would turn down more on his left side than his right. But most of all his eyes. Draco could feel Harry’s darting eyes all over his body, searching for some answer to his ever growing questions.

Seconds turned into minutes, and the space between only seemed to grow. 

“Fine, be that way.” Desperation laced itself into Harry’s words. “Maybe it was just me who thought we were friends, maybe it was just me who wanted to stay friends. I don’t know. I don’t understand people these days. Can you please just tell me what’s going on?”

Draco looked up at Harry reluctantly, eyes focused on the scar on his forehead. The scar that gave nothing and took everything. He felt his lip curl, a disgusting glimpse of a smirk. Folding his arms, Draco tilted his head at Harry.

“How is auror training going?” The words came out harsher than he intended, but the damage was done. Draco didn’t miss the ache in his chest as Harry’s eyebrows furrowed even further. “Your criminal law work? Research on the unforgivables, the curses, the hexes, the  _ Death Eaters,  _ going well?”

“What are you going on- What does that have to do with this, Draco?”

Perhaps it was the fact his mind wasn’t making any sense, or the fact the sun was too hot, or the way Harry’s foot was still half through the door. Draco broke. Like the snap of a rubber band pulled too far back, like the crack of a whip.

“It has  _ everything _ to do with this!” His voice was pure venom. It took everything in Draco not to cave into himself. 

Harry, bless him, gave him a moment. For some reason, Harry’s good at doing that. Knowing when to make himself small to make space for others, knowing how to without his presence ever wavering. 

“You can’t be friends with me, not with what I’ve done.” Draco’s voice was low. He held up a hand to stop Harry before he even opened his mouth. “Hogwarts was hidden, it was safe. There was no one else but us and our friends behind those walls, but now… Now there’s public, there’s people, and there’s the Prophet. They’re one article away from ruining our lives, Harry.” 

Harry stared at him, emotions raging in his eyes like quickfire. Then his eyes landed on Draco’s arm.

_ Huh _ , Draco thought to himself. _ I didn’t even notice. _ But there he was, rubbing the nail of his thumb into the skull of the mark. 

Harry steeled himself. “You know I don’t give two damns about that, Draco. They can’t tell me who I get to be friends with, they can’t control me anymore. Not with this.” Harry's eyes jumped back and forth between Draco’s. “Not with you.”

There was something there that made him pause. Something one part of Draco wanted to know while the other parts wanted to run. 

Something had changed.

Draco carefully grasped Harry’s hand. His thumb rubbing gently once over the ‘I must not tell lies’ scar from a world ago. 

He laughed softly and squeezed his hand. “I had a feeling you didn’t care, you impulsive git. It’s like your existence is to not care. Ever.” 

Harry laughed too, just the tiniest bit. Draco could feel how the bit of laughter burst out of him. The way it shook from his core to the tips of his fingers. He missed that, the insults, the sarcasm, the way they make each other feel better, especially after the war.

Then Harry whispered quietly, like a tip toe across a frozen over lake, “I can’t lose another friend.” He smiled softly up at Draco. “Please stay.”

Suddenly, Harry’s other hand joins them, and everything is okay. They’ll make it, they’ll fight for it, their friendship, their inside jokes and petty arguments, their memories. They can make it through.

It can be permanent.

“I cherish our friendship so much, Harry,” Draco said as he loosened the grip on Harry’s hands. “More than you could ever hope to know.” 

He had to make a decision, he knew which one he wanted to make, which one he had to. 

“Draco, we-”

A flash went off in the distance. They both turned, startled. Everything was still, only the smoke rising from the camera moved for the next few moments.

Then there was a bang, and the sun wasn’t on Draco’s skin anymore. His skin cooled down from the shadows of his house. 

Draco tried to calm down his buzzing mind, but nothing worked. Everything was ruined. They did it. They messed up.

Harry’s rapid knocking on the door didn’t faze Draco as he rested his forehead on the other side. Harry’s voice was slightly muffled through the wood as he spoke. One word, two syllables, again like a prayer. 

What a fool Draco was, to let himself think like that. Even for a moment. To think that maybe something in his life could stay.

He was united with the unstable, he breathed in the brief, and lived in the limited.

“Everything is temporary.” Draco didn’t mean to say it out loud. “This was merely one of those things.” 

The knocking stopped, and for a moment Draco thought he left. Silence loomed over his shoulder, loneliness tapped on his back. The house was still holding its breath.

“I don’t believe you.” Harry’s sounded so patient and kind it startled Draco.

On any other day, those words would’ve infuriated him, turned his vision red and his heart defensive. 

But today… Today he felt empty, his vision turned blurry, and his heart jumped out of his chest into his mouth.

“I don’t think I do either.”


End file.
